


Pride and Prejudice: A Star Wars Story

by Charvie116



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-26 06:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charvie116/pseuds/Charvie116
Summary: What happens when you take the classic story of bad first impressions and personal growth and drop it into the Star Wars Universe?  Basically Pride and Prejudice, but with smugglers, bounty hunters, Diplomatic fiascos and Culture shock.Or that time I got lazy and borrowed Jane Austen's Elizabeth Bennet to act as a character in a Role Playing game...Criscidia was the result and she needed her story told.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. The end of a World

**Author's Note:**

> Hi readers, This work in progress is the result of not really understanding how to play the table top role playing game "Edge of the Empire" by fantasy flight games. You see my Husband wanted to GM a game for his brother and sister and sister in law and he asked me to join. He told me I needed to make a character with a back story and motivations etc. and I didn't till game day...desperate I decided to borrow Elizabeth Bennet from Jane Austen. Fast forward 6 months later and we are still playing and really getting into it. But we hit a snag when it was important for the story that everyone know "Criscidia or Cid's" back story, and I found out that none of my in-laws knew the basic story of Pride and Prejudice. So I started writing. And then I thought hey...maybe I should write out Cid's adventures...maybe someone might be amused reading it. And here we are.  
Please enjoy! I don't have a beta so its just my eyes editing, so feedback will be useful  
Let me know what you think  
-Charvie116

Chapter 1

Criscidia Fountanu chewed unconsciously on the cuticle of her thumb as she braced her data pad on her knees. The simple diaphanous fabric of her skirts forced her to hold it there with some pressure so the pad would not slip while she read news report after news report with conflicting information about the fate of a planet light years away from her. 

Two reports had read that an asteroid had collided with one of its smaller moons which in turn was deflected into the planet’s gravity well in a collision course for the planet of over 2 billion residents. Another news broadcasting network out of the Free Tanala system reported that shortly before the planet’s destruction there had been a massive energy charge directed at the planet. 

Criscidia was not the sort to follow and put much stake in conspiracy theories but the idea that Alderaanian astronomers had been so lax as to miss a planetoid sized boulder shooting towards one of their moons was far fetched. She was growing discontent with the manipulated information that reached Commenor for distribution. Who did the manipulation was as much a guess as anything. Some claimed it was imperial censors, others felt that Commenor’s planetary governments who owned and operated the planets three basic media outlets chose to scrub interplanetary conflict out of anyone’s minds so that Commenor remained an idyllic civil society. 

The northern continents of Commenor were among the earliest humanoid colonies in the galaxy, and they were colonized by wealthy core worlders who had set out to create a placidly beautiful pastoral world. The environment had largely cooperated with this scheme with its endless rolling hills and rich soils that produced massive amounts of crops for export. Mineral rich in some areas, with a sprinkling of precious stones here and there 

The people had really tried. The land had been broken up into grand estates passed patrilineally to the eldest son for generations. This had the dual effect of creating a rather strict class system, and enforcing deep divides between the human genders. It took hundreds of years before other species began trading with the rich Commenorians, and by that time a sense of superiority among the landowners was deeply entrenched. Superiority over the unlanded, over other species, and over each other if they could help it. Of course nobody ever said any of that out loud. These were just things you unconsciously knew if you were from here, it would be gouche to have to mention it.

“CRISSY?” She heard her mother Fanny yell. “Crissy are you ready? Presentable?”

“Oh for heaven’s sake Crissidia we have only a few moments to spare and here you are tucked away reading-”she pulled the data pad out of Criscidia’s hands and glanced at it “the news of all things? No one wants to hear your opinion on issues that you cannot possibly understand? What will the Bessin’s think? I’ll tell you what they will think! They will be appalled at a young woman of 18 spouting opinions on subjects that should have no concern about! Thats what they’ll think! Are you trying to make yourself the most unmarriable girl in the county? The first time a new family moves into the neighborhood in years! With an eligible bachelor to boot and you cannot bistir yourself to care”

Crissidia did not need to nod or comment at this point. Once her mother was on a rant no audience was really necessary. Instead she carefully pulled on her satin gloves to cover her bitten fingernails and slipped into her dyed satin dancing shoes and headed toward the door where a covered black speeder waited to take the family to the Meyertissima ballroom

As it was, discussing current events like the total destruction of Alderaan or the dissolution of the galactic senate were topics that young ladies were discouraged from discussing in company anyway. Her father allowed the free debate of such topics within his house because his household consisted of only young ladies and one very silly wife. If Criscidia wanted to read and discuss topics more suitable for gentlemen it suited Thomas Fountanu just fine. It saved him the trouble of having to go out.

“I haven’t lost hope for you yet Criscidia,” Fanny continued. “Even if Pearl is the prettiest of you all, and Marilessa the most engaging. Tonight you three have a chance of making an excellent match.” This last bit was said with a twinge of urgency, which Criscidia noted as unusual. The subject of their potential marriages was near constantly remarked upon by their mother, but Fanny’s tone of voice struck Criscidia as odd. 

The statement of course held some truth. Crissidia’s elder sister was the most classically beautiful woman she had ever seen. Pearl’s raven curls had the effect of making her skin look like her namesake. That same hair heightened her lips to a perfect ruby and sat dramatically against her ice blue eyes. Pearl was also the most genuinely kind person Criscidia had ever known, and as such her mother was never able to sow discord between the sisters. It was simply impossible to hate dear Pearl. 

Marilissa was younger and certainly more exuberant than her elder sisters. With flaming red hair and a dimple in her cheek, she could and would talk to anyone. Or at least in the direction of anyone. The speed and quantity of words that Mari could hurtle at someone made it unlikely she could filter any thought that came in her head, there simply wasn’t processing time.

It wasn’t that Mari was a bad person, it was just apparent that she used her head mostly for growing hair. Their mother counted this as engaging, but Crissidia could always time the attention span of any of Mari’s listeners. Their close acquaintances could stand 90 seconds on average, but people unaccustomed to the endless chatter would widen their eyes and then glaze over at the 30 second mark. To be fair, Mari was only 15 years old. Her inane chatter may well have had more to do with feeling insecure in a room full of adults demanding she present herself as a potential spouse to any single man who held property or a respectable job.

Her father waited by the door to the speeder holding the door open for the Ladies. He made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes at Fanny as her rant continued. They all filled in and the driver sped off in the direction of town.

“I am in quite a state girls. From what I learned today, Ohio house has been purchased by a Charlie Bessin, who I understand is very handsome, and fabulously rich. His sisters are with him, and possibly a brother in law, but I couldn’t get the particulars. However he also travels with his good friend who is, and I’m not joking about this, the ambassador to Coruscant. I don’t think we have ever had such exalted company at one of these parties! Just think of it! Apparently this Charlie fellow made his money on Coruscant, but is ready to settle down here! ” Fanny giggled excitedly causing Mari to start to bounce with excitement along side her.

“Oh yes, the exalted wealth of the capital, settling in our humble neighborhood.” Replied Thomas sarcastically. “Just having a few of these core world types living around us will increase our tax rate just for the privilege of knowing them. Unless the young man is serious about living here and adopting our ways, I would prefer he stay away. We don’t need power grasping and cloak and dagger nonsense that comes from the core.” Thomas joked.

“That’s a rather quickly formed opinion for an acquaintance not yet formed, father” Criscidia chided playfully.

“You mark my words Crissy these people your mother is on about will have their noses so high up the emperor’s robes they won’t be able to converse with the normal loyal imperial subjects they will find here tonight.” He retorted. 

“Yes but how will we tell the difference between core world snobbery and everyone else's attempts at out doing each other tonight?”

“Too true dear, too true. I will give you this one tonight my dear.” Her father affectionately patted her arm

Her father was an odd man. An interesting mix of reclusive intellectual, and vibrant conversationalist. He would complain all day about having to go to a party and be forced to make small talk, but the minute he arrived it was like he was on stage. Every eye was on him, agreeing with his opinions, and laughing at his jokes. At any gathering he held court as like a monarch. At home would closet himself in the library declaring that he was not home to anyone who asked. And while her mother happily chose her eldest and youngest daughters as favorites. Criscidia was her father’s jewel.

\----

The high ceilinged ballroom was awash with excitement and full to capacity. Criscidia went to find her dearest childhood friend Gladys, spotting her next to the bar. Sometimes it paid to be slightly taller than ideal in a woman. When she reached Gladys and they both had retrieved a glass of sparkling wine, real not synthesized, they both settled in to people watch.

“Have the new shiny objects arrived yet?” Criscidia asked Gladys waging her eyebrows.

“Not yet, you will know when they get here.”

“Why because they will enter with more state than the Philips usually do?”

“Not even remotely, you’ll know because the new Master of Ohio house is incredibly good looking, and he is so congenial you cannot even hate him for it.”

“I can try, at least give me a chance.”

“Not even cynical Crissy will be able to fault this guy, he is too...nice.”

“So you have set your cap for him then? Just so you know I won’t stand in your way, I couldn’t live with a paragon of virtue. I require some flaw to remind me that I am dealing with a mortal.”

“No, he is younger than I am and it makes me feel my age.”

“Your age. Pha! You are 26, Commenor is modernizing you know. It’ s only our mothers who worry about us being on the shelf!”

“Says my dear friend of 18 summers” Gladys chuckled and raised an eyebrow at her.

“No,” she continued, “I actually think he and Pearl could make a good partnership out of it, and I intend to be the one to introduce them.”

“You’ll have to race my mother for it then.” Crissidia laughed.

In the end it was Fanny who introduced the new-commers to Pearl. They entered the ballroom with no excessive fan fair but the act of being new to the neighborhood was enough to cause the general hum of conversation to halt and everyone to try and discreetly stare at the party. Gladys had been right Charlie Bessin was all that was considered attractive in a Commenor man, tall, lean and dark haired, he matched his conventional good looks with an even warmer expression. Criscidia couldn’t say the same for the rest of the party. His sisters, as they had to be, shared his coloring but nothing else. They dressed in gowns made in the height of core world fashion, and actually did send their noses in the air as her father had anticipated. She was probably going to have to endure some good natured ribbing from him on that account.

The most interesting person to Criscidia however was the man that tried to enter behind the sisters bio luminescent gowns. He was too tall to succeed, but he was making an excellent effort to blend into the crowd as if he were embarrassed to have been late.

Glayds obviously noticed Criscidia’s interest.

“That’s Marcus Davryl the new ambassador to Coruscant.”

“Isn’t he a little young for such a high ranking job?”

“Perhaps but the post was held by his father before him, and he owns half of two northern counties, so he is well connected.”

Crescidia considered this. There was no proving yourself on Commenor, but if you listened long enough to her father there wasn’t much of a meritocracy at the capital either. The military might have been the only conceivable way to move above your station, but interestingly, no one wanted to move too high either. The Emperor’s right hand was apparently impatient with high command, so the posts were never favored by the well to do from Commenor.

Either way this man probably knew what life looked like away from pastures, grain fields, and rigid rules of propriety. This made him something of a curiosity to her, and she found herself following where he was in the crush for the first half of the night. The second half she decided she’d like to know how much life off-world made a person different, so she began to try and find reasons to over hear the conversations he was having. The trouble was he didn’t seem to be having any. He refused to dance with anyone, and answered monosyllabically only to direct questions. So much for something interesting tonight. 

At least Pearl appeared to be having a good time. Charlie Bessin had her occupied the whole night asking first to dance and then for her to introduce him to his new neighbors. They only parted sometime after Criscidia had abandoned listening in on the ambassador. She went to go find her when she passed the colonnade that seperated the bar from the dance floor and heard Bessin and Davryl speaking.

“You are being a bore.”

“Charlie, that’s because I am bored”

“Come on now, this is a good party. The food is great, no one is being stingy with the open bar, I’m dancing with possibly the most idyllic looking lady I’ve ever met. Did I introduce you to Pearl? She has been really sweet and introduced me to everyone, not that I’ll remember the names of course, not yet anyway. But I haven’t had such a wonderful time since before I moved to Coursant! I’m so glad to be home”

“She is, quite pretty...there now will you leave me alone? I’m waiting on a call.”

“No I don’t think I will! Listen, I know that you’ve had a rough couple of months and that the funerals really took it out of you, but why don’t you grab a drink and ask someone to dance. Pearl’s sister, the tall one she is good looking.”

“For the love of everything holy! There isn’t a single person here I’d want to spend five minutes dancing with, let alone a country nobody without a coherent thought in her head. Have you heard the mother? You are not going to get anywhere with me, so go and enjoy yourself because the sooner you sprain your ankle the sooner we can leave.”

“Frankly Marcus I’ll never understand you, but have it your way. Just try and do something with your face. If looks could kill this ballroom would be a bloodbath, and I’d like to get along with my neighbors in the future.”

Charlie stalked off leaving Marcus to himself. 

Criscidia was insulted, but being stuck behind a column and insulted was worse than being just insulted. Who the hell did this guy think he was anyway? Why had she ever thought that he could be an interesting part of her evening? Now she was insulted, stuck, and incensed. Even worse, she was insulted, stuck, inseced and her father was right. He wouldn’t budge from the column, so she was going to have to have a little back bone and walk past him. Two can play this game she reasoned. She put on her best impression of the aristocrat standing in all state like he owned the place and marched determinedly passed him. She made sure to make eye contact with him so he knew that she had heard him.

They locked eyes, and she wouldn’t let go tell he looked away. Except he wouldn’t look away. She stared just long enough to make it awkward, just long enough to prove whatever it was she was trying to prove, then turned towards the bar. She ordered another and kept her back rimrod straight. This was her home and she wouldn’t be intimidated on her own turf like that. In her mind, she couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.

\----

Two days later her father was still teasing her about it. She had to laugh because it was just so ridiculous. They had talked about her reaction and how well she had pulled off the haughty look of daggers. 

“You ought to work on a scathing tirade, just in case you end up in that situation again Crissy.” Thomas had chuckled at breakfast. 

“Yes papa, I’ll be sure to practice it in the mirror so that I can get the tone exactly right. I wouldn’t want to be caught without something to say.” 

“I’ve never known you to have a slow tongue. I think you let yourself be intimidated by him because he was a fresh face. You have one of the quickest minds and sharpest wits around my girl, don’t let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong somewhere. Fake it till you believe that you own situation.”

“Thank you for the compliment papa, although I’m not sure it sits with the etiquette lessons we girls were given. But next time I let loose, I’ll know that however unlady like I may seem that my papa is secretly proud of me.”

He chuckled at that as Os’kara their twi'lek housekeeper entered the breakfast room to alert the master that someone was there to deliver something he must sign for.

Thomas jumped out of the chair excitedly. 

“What could make you as jittery as Mother?” Criscidia chided.

“Oh Crissy! Its here! Its here!” and he practically skipped out the door.

Standing on the long front lawn before the entrance to the manor house stood a pudgey Besilisk holding a tether to a four legged creature. It was taller than her father, and looked like it had been painted with black and white stripes. At the end of each spindle like leg was a semicircular peg and from between its upright ears to its shoulders ran a trail of thick black hair. The tail swished in the same color while it picked up and set down each of its four legs individually. 

“What is it?” Criscidia asked

“My dear, it is a one of a kind. I call it a horse. I read a novel set on a fictional planet called Earth and on it the men would ride these beasts. After Henry acquired that set of Jedi battle armor for his front hall I had to have something to set him in his place, so I wrote to a cloning specialist on Sleheyron gave the specifications and he created me this!”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, but I don’t think your mother will like it in the house, so for now I’ll leave it here in the front lawn within the gate so it cannot run away.” He said while signing for the creature. “Now I must call Henry and have him come by right away to admire the thing.”

Henry Stavos, Glady’s father and Thomas Fonteneau had been having a good natured one upmanship competition since before Criscidia had been born. This ‘horse’ was just another in a long string of purchase meant to keep the neighbor on his toes. Her father for all his intelligence, could not drop this competition bread in his youth anymore then Henry could.

“THOMAS!” Shouted Fanny from the house. “What in the blazes is that?”

As her father began to explain Criscidia turned to return to the house but paused on the steps when she heard the argument between her parents becoming heated. 

“Thomas, we agreed, we agreed that with the state of things there would be no more purchases. How many credits did this...this creature cost? How many? Enough to dress our girls so that they have a chance of maintaining the comforts with which they were brought up when they marry? The doweries are spent, all they have to recommend themselves is their breeding! They have to look the part, or we will be seen as paupers and then where will the bachelors go? Off world that’s where! And what will be left for your daughters then? What happens if you die? The estate goes to that dreadful security officer and we your family are out on our own. Oh how could you do this to us?

“Fanny do not get yourself crazed. The money is taken care of. You won’t even need to skimp on dresses. Besides having this marvelous beast, this one of a kind thing can only prove to anyone looking that we have plenty of money, and by the time anyone asks about dowries they will be to far in love or honor or whatever it is that persuades a man to matrimony to care. No I think we should show her off, at least I think it’s a her. Yes that’s just the thing lets have a little dinner party to introduce this grand thing to our neighbors.”

Fanny only roared threw up her hands and stalked off toward the gardens to compose herself.

\----

“Pearl, do you know anything about the household accounts?” Criscidia asked her sister that night while preparing for bed.

“No, why do you ask?”

“It’s nothing.”

A splash of water hit her in the face flicked out of this sink by Pearl.

“Oh fine, I’ve just been noticing Mother. She is behaving strangely.”

Pearl raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“No hear me out! She has been mad about marrying us off for ages, but she seems almost desperate, you can hear it in her voice when it pitches up. Or today with the horse, she railed against papa as one would expect and then she just gave up and ran away. She was on about our dowries and then poof she stormed off. She never lets go that easily. It seems like she is panicking trying to get each of us settled before….before what I don’t know.”

“Before the handsomest, warmest, kindest gentleman in the neighborhood chooses someone else you mean?” 

“You forgot richest.”

“Well if a young man can help it.” Was all she could coyly reply.

“Pearl, do you really like him? I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured by mama.”

“Oh Crissy. If he is what he seems, then… Oh he exactly what I have dreamed about my whole life. He speaks so warmly to everyone he encounters. You saw him tonight at mama’s dinner party. He listened to Papa on the horse subject with such perfect kindness even though you could tell he was made nervous by the beast. When we are speaking I feel so confident. Did you see me tell Mari that it was time to move on to other subjects when she started discussing the new Imperial base? But I know not to rush things. It is possible that longer acquaintance will prove we don’t suit.”

“That will be a shame if you decide that because I think dear open Charlie Bessin is more than smitten with you.”

“Oh, Crissy, how can you know that?” Pearl was clearly underestimating Bessin’s attachment. Always the picture of prudence her sister was cautious and shy. This was the most effusive thing she had ever said about a man.

“I’m good at reading people. I think that Charlie Bessin is exactly as he seems open, friendly and a perfect match for you. I really cannot account for his friendships though. I can’t imagine what could have induced a friendship between Charlie and the dour Ambassador.”

“Crissy, you are not the only person with powers of observation. I noticed that dour ambassador followed you around all evening. If I looked up to see where you were all I had to do was look for him and undoubtedly there you were holding court like papa.”

“I can’t imagine what he means by it. I noticed too. You should have heard me while I was ‘entertaining’, each time I noticed him watching me I would steer the conversation to more and more controversial subjects. He brings out the worst in me. By the end you would have thought I was a rebel sympathizer, lending credence to that death moon rumor.”

“He looked openly fascinated by you”

“Oh for goodness sake! We have a hereditary disposition to the ridiculous, you should watch yourself. Not to mention you are getting me off topic. What is mother worried about? Do you think that papa borrowed against and lost our dowries or was she just being dramatic?”

“It seems irresponsible for papa to have done it. If he did. No I can’t believe he would do something like that. It must have been a misunderstanding.”

Criscidia was not as sure.

\--

In the dark hours of the morning, long before the staff would wake Criscidia crept into her father’s study which attached to the library. Her palms were a little sweaty as she snuck his personal datapad out from a drawer. The knock of a tree limb on the window drew her attention in fear that she had been found out.

Settling into the chair she powered up the device. Dear papa was never very clever with password encryption and his own birth date unlocked the screen. She started digging. Pulling out spreadsheets and notes trying to find a way to check his accounting. Deep in his electronic correspondence she found a file entitled Request for “HORSE” and began to read the thread. 

60,000 credits, 60,000 credits is what it costs to genetically circumvent evolution and create a mythical animal, and 60,000 credits is more than 5 times what each of the Fonteneau sisters were expecting to receive as a dowry, or as money to live off of should their father die and they be sent away from the house. What had her father done? And where did that money come from? She kept at it. Comparing notes from investment returns and income from the rents of the land they owned and the sale of the minor precious stone find in the south pasture with the costs of house maintenance and salaries for house staff.

Some hours later while her eyes burned she realized that while she now had a clearer picture of the scale of her father’s financial mismanagement she still did not have a lead on how he had scrounged together enough liquid assets to satisfy the cloner from Slehayron. He must have taken a loan, but she couldn’t track what financial institution had lent him the money, only that he had used the doweries as down payment.

Crisicidia was feeling a little sick at this betrayal. She had never felt that her father was a particularly good estate manager, but she had not ever considered he could be this bad. Nor could she believe that he had gambled her future on such frivolity. But the numbers did not lie, and her mother’s hysteria was probably warranted. 

Criscidia had always skirted the edges of feminine propriety. She was never able to tame her tongue or confine her reading to appropriate subjects. Her cheerful disposition and quick wit made her appear slightly eccentric, but really very sensible to her neighbors. Now where there was mild discomfort, Commenorian restrictions on women chaffed mightily. If she had been a son, she could have done something about this taken over the estate allowing her father the freedom to pursue whichever hobby he wanted to retreat too, while preventing him from sinking the ship. For the foreseeable future all she could do was bite her nails and hope he figured out a way out of this situation for all of their sakes. Especially Pearl’s because if word got out that there was no dowry at all, her chances with Bessin were bleak.

When she did return to bed a burning in her chest prevented her from any restful sleep. The fuel of the fire was her esteem for her father going up in smoke, and if she couldn’t trust him to care for her, who could she count on? The steady rock on which she had built her life seemed to disintegrate under her feet. She had never felt this angry at her father before, and she did not feel capable of dealing with the intensity of that emotion at all.

By breakfast the following morning she had resolved to trust him. Not because he deserved it, but because she was fairly certain she would become as nervous and ridiculous as her mother if she did not. This would be a problem for another Criscidia to deal with. An older one, far far into the future. She hoped.

Before lunch Pearl had left for Ohio house to be entertained by Charlie’s awful sisters Caro and Sidel. Criscidia thought the act of going there in an open speeder when rain was obviously on its way smaked of desperation, but her mother saw otherwise. How else would she be asked to stay for dinner if she could go home at a normal hour? Her mother stated plainly. Fanny was desperate. And she had reason to be.

\---

After everyone had gone to bed that night Pearl was still not home, and Criscidia was worried. It felt refreshing to worry about her sister rather than about the missing dowries but she checked her communicator compulsively for another hour. It wasn’t like Pearl to not check in at least with her. When it did alert many hours later, the text from Pearl’s number was not from Pearl herself. Impossibly it was Marcus Davryl. The text read : I apologize that no one has informed your family of Pearl’s accident this afternoon. The speeder she was driving malfunctioned due to the rain and was driven into a tree. Charlie and Caro had her taken to the hospital, and She has been discharged with orders to keep to bed in a calm quiet room. The medical tech, found evidence of a concussion, but nothing she will not recover from in a few days. She is recuperating at Ohio house. Again I apologize Charlie and Caro each thought the other had communicated with your family. She has been asking for you.

No care was given to her hair and she threw on her most comfortable dress that allowed her to move freely, and sprinted down the main stairwell. Grabbing the keys to the farm speeder she drove off in the direction of Ohio house.

She must have looked frightening because Caro and Sidel’s expressions could not contain the judgement of her appearance. What did they expect, honestly? Did they think she would dress in state to wait on them in a drawing room? The Ambassador seemed to notice that no one had said anything yet and coughed gently.   
“Ah yes, I’ll take you up to where dear Pearl is staying” Caro said as she lead her up the stairs. Impossibly that single sentence was laced more disdain than actual words, and Criscidia had to shake her head.

Upon reaching Pearl’s room she saw Charlie pacing out in front of the door.

“I’m so sorry, so so sorry we didn’t contact any of you sooner. At first we were all so worried about her, and then there were the scans and medical stuff, by the time we got home and Marcus asked if we’d told you it was the middle of the night!” 

Caro didn’t look terribly worried about any of this, only bored and ready to put the miserable day behind her.

“Thank you again for your care of her. I’ll slip in now and see how she is doing. Did the Doctors say when she could be moved?”

“They didn’t give many instructions other then that she should sleep as much as she needed and be kept in a dark and quiet space. They felt like she would be perfectly alright after a few days. I had hoped to keep her here as it is awfully quiet here.”

HIdden in that explanation was an implicit acknowledgement of the boysterous nature of their own house and Criscidia was grateful Charlie had so tactfully thought of her sister’s well being. 

—

Most of the next two days were spent sitting with Pearl. She wanted to talk or hear a book read to her, but the medical droid has been right about her sensitivity to light. If Criscidia wanted sunlight she’d need to leave for a bit each day to walk the grounds. When she did she was always caught by someone, usually Ambassador Davryl. When caught she would be politely cajoled into joining the residents of the house for parlor games or some other appropriately sedate activity. 

She hoped the distaste for these forced encounters wasn’t written all over her face. The food was always fantastic, so she could be counted on to say something polite there. The company was unbearable. But she needed to stay on good terms with her hosts if only for Pearl’s sake.

“You certainly do spend a great deal of time walking around outside.” Caro commented on one such occasion, Criscidia was being baited. The trouble was, Criscidia wasn’t entirely sure why she had garnered the attention of the disdainful woman, or what sort of response she was searching for.

“I suppose there really isn’t much else to do out here, then wander around, so you can be forgiven, but you should have a care for your skin or you will grow freckled.” There it was, she was attacking looks. Well Caro Bessin had nothing on her mother.

“I assure you the freckles are quite by choice, how else would I distinguish myself from my sisters.” Crisidia dispassionately replied returning to the data pad on her lap.

“All I am saying,” Caro continued, “is that is clearly obvious that you wish to leave Commenor because you're dreadfully bored here. I can just see you wandering hill and dale, dreaming about adventures among the stars. But from one friend to another life outside this world is so course and lax. You wouldn’t like it at all! I for one could not wait to come home to have a proper estate for rest and relaxation and a home in Vauxhall when I needed entertainment.”

“I promise you I am neither bored with our world nor am I uncurious about the rest of the galaxy. I find that perhaps Commenor has sheltered itself too much from the goings on in the rest of the galaxy of which we are very much a part; and I also love our home and would miss it as you did, should I leave. Perhaps not for the reasons you suggested. No I think that a proper love of home should be based on the fact that it is your home. The place of your obligations to your dependants and peers, the connection to the land that your ancestors worked and hopefully future generations will continue to work. But this does not necessarily mean that we can learn nothing from the rest of the galaxy or that we are superior to it in any meaningful way.

The room had gone silent. Great, she had just declared herself to be the least patriotic Commenorian they had ever met and they had lived in the galactic capital. The Ambassadors look was dark, like she had just spoken treason. Now not only was she a country nobody that would be an embarrassment to dance with, she also hated everything he tried to protect and advocate for. 

Sweet Charlie rushed in to fill the silence. “You see, it’s just as Crissy says, we can have both! A foot in both worlds.” It wasn’t precisely what she’d meant, but the gesture was a kind one.

“I think I should check on Pearl now.” It wasn’t a graceful exit, but it was an exit which she would gracefully accept.

\--

By the third day Pearl was well enough to go home, and Criscidia was more than ready to leave. The level of tension between herself and Caro had only continued to grow till on the evening of the last night the hostess had only biting remarks about Criscidia’s rural upbringing, and about the superior society of the Commenorian capital Vauxhall to comment on. All the while the Ambassador fixed his stern and reproachful stare on her. At the dinner table, he was watching her, judging; after dinner drinks, silent stares in her direction. It seemed to Criscidia that he was trying to telepathically communicate his reproach with his eyes. 

On one occasion she had slipped down to the library to read while Pearl slept. Grabbing a real bound paper volume off the shelf she settled down into a chair by the real fireplace to read. The Ambassador entered only a moment later. He looked shocked to see her with a book. As if she was incapable of reading _ A History of the Clone Wars _ and understanding it. Without speaking he opened his data pad and sat next to the fire in the chair opposite her. Without speaking he began scanning and scrolling. For thirty of the most awkward minutes of her life she pretended to read, hoping he would go away. He never once acknowledged her, truthfully the only sound he made was to shift in his seat. 

If this was to be a contest of wills, she was not playing. She felt pretty sure she could win, but was too annoyed to be bothered. After another 15 minutes she ceded him his little victory of scaring her off and took her book up to read next to Pearl’s bedside. Even reading in the dark wouldn’t give her the headache she was likely to get from spending more time in that tense library. 

Now at least she could move about her own house, without running into a disapproving face. Instead of uncomfortable silence, she was met with incessant chatter. Settling Pearl in her room she was bombarded by her mother and sister. 

“Well? Was she able to secure him?”

“MOTHER! Poor Pearl was in a serious accident. The speeder is effectively totalled and your daughter has a concussion! She didn’t talk to anyone, because noise and light were incredibly painful to her. There was no opportunity to talk with Bessin so _ NO _ she did not weedle out an engagement.” Her mother looked crestfallen, and more contriete then Criscidia had expected. She remembered the axe hanging over her mother’s head and had pity on her.

“He _ was _ very worried about her.” She added encouragingly.

“Crissy! Chrissy! You haven't heard! We have to get out of this house! Right now!”

“Gracious Mari! I haven't even been to my own room yet. Tell me what's going on while we walk.”

“No seriously we have to get out of here right now! Before he--”

She was cut off as they rounded the corner to the main staircase.

“OH you must be the terribly beautiful and incredibly intelligent Criscidia Fonteneau. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Billson Reed.” He bowed slightly when he said his name in a strangely formal and awkward way. He wore a sort of military fatigue dress in blue with a patch reading Rosing Industries :Security.

“You are too kind.” Criscidia looked desperately at her mother and sister to explain the presence of this Billson Reed in the family wing of the house. 

“You remember Billson, your father’s heir.” Fanny said significantly. Oh yes, she did remember this. The other axe over her mother’s head was her inability to produce a male child to inherit their father’s debt. Criscidia would no longer call that inheritance wealth. 

“Yes Billson, Crissy here was just agreeing to accompany me on a shopping trip so we really must be going.” Mari gave a firm tug on Criscidia’s arm and began to lead her through the hall.

“Well I know that this isn’t the capital, but surely you beautiful ladies wouldn’t go out in such a crowded space without protection? Dame Rawthbourne would never allow such a thing. No she cares too much about the safety of all that is under her care. Our private security forces are of a top priority to her and she ensured that we have been trained up to military standards. So you see as her chief of security, I really must insist on accompanying you. I will provide a deterrent against those who wish to do you harm, I’ll keep my eyes trained on your credit purses to watch for pickpockets, which are endemic to all commercial centers, and as it is I have already pulled up the security maps of the commercial district and planned escape routes should there be an attack by rebellion terrorists.”

Mari gave her a significant look, but Criscidia couldn’t think fast enough to find a way out of this. Billson continued to talk as he lead them both to his speeder.

“Dame Rawthborne has included so generously in my contract that I have access to the staff pool of armoured speeders at any time, so you see, taking the transport I provide will be the absolute safest way to travel.”

“And the most embarrassing.” Mari groweld under her breath.

The speeder was notable, not because it was ostentatious, but because it looked like the cab of an AT-AT hovering in their drive. Mari was right they would make an impression when they arrived and it would be a humiliating one.

\--

An hour of trying to ditch their enthusiastic guard proved ineffective. For the first time in memory Mari was the quiet sister. It only took being in the company of the non-stop monologuing of Billson Reed. Criscidia was not required to say much, but for politeness she added the requisite “mhmm” and “indeed”s. The only time he left their side was after he had situated them at a cafe table and went in search of information about the restaurant's most recent health inspection.

“I wish you would have messaged me about him when I was away.” Criscidia started.

“Mari? Are you OK?” She asked when Mari didn’t respond. She kicked her under the table.

“What? Oh, sorry,” Mari physically shook herself free of the glassy dazed expression she had adopted. “I had to tune out all the talking. Oh my god! I thought I was brain dead for a minute. He may have actually killed me, and now I’m just responding on reflex. Sorry Crissy I should have told you but I just couldn’t. You see…” She halted and kept her eyes trained away from her sister’s questioning stare.

“You deserve to know. He is visiting because his boss told him that the only way from here to get a promotion at Rosings Industries would be to make himself look more stable. As in, get married and have a couple of kids, stable. Apparently he was blabbing about the stupid inheratence thing, and the all-knowing-_ Dame Rawthborune _, thought that the lucky lady should be one of us!”

Criscidia could feel the color drain from her face. If her mother knew about this…. The pieces clicked together.

“Yeah Crissy. You. Pearl has a decent shot at Bessin, and I’m too young, thank the force. Nope it’s you, and I know that we don’t always get along, but I wouldn’t wish this on you or anyone. You have to think of something! Oh Lord, he is coming back. I have to use the bathroom.” Mari was up and gone before the obsequious security guard reached the table.

“Keeping the both of you out of trouble would be oh so much easier if you would stay together.” Reed grumbled

“Your concern is kind,” Criscidia said swallowing the offence at his enfantalizing statement. “But Mari is just going to use the facilities she will be right back.”

“Well I should thank her because I have been meaning to get a moment alone with you and properly get to know you. You have yellow hair. I find this interesting, your sisters are of a more traditionally Commonorian appearance.” He stopped. He wanted her to respond, but had not asked a question. His attempts at getting to know her had apparently stopped at her follicles.

Criscidia inhaled to keep herself from flipping the cafe table on him, and spied Mari out of the corner of her eye talking to an imperial officer. Her attention was trained on that pair, but she was trapped at this table, having this insulting conversation.

“Actually, I have my mother’s coloring. She only dyes it black to keep with convention. I think that the process is unnecessarily costly and repetitive, so I don’t bother.” Would that end her torment?

“Ah I see you are of a practical bent. This is to your credit. Dame Rawthborne doesn’t believe that women of constrained circumstances should use their money on unnecessary vanity. She is really concerned that those who must work for a living have their best life. She was even considerate enough to include an example budget in the employee handbook that showed the plant employees how to make the most of their pay checks. Her plant grows and processes agricultural seeds, and the workers there are so well taken care of that they are exceptionally productive. So much that other companies are always trying to entice them away. Why last week we lost 5 production line workers to a rival. That’s how well we train our workers. 

“My own department has 15 guards that report to me, and I have a devil of a time keeping them. We take unskilled laborers and train them to the exact standards of imperial troopers. I sometimes amuse myself with designing new drills that will actually make them better than the average trooper. But I do worry that with providing them with such excellent training for free we don’t get the return on investment that we should, what with the guards being poached by police departments, the military and other security outfits!”

“Mhmm” Criscidia responded mechanically. She did not have the attention to process how insulting and horrible this Dame Rawthborune was, or how stupid this earstwhile suiter seemed to be. She couldn’t even laugh to herself that while this conversation was ostensibly about getting to know her, the best Reed could come up with was disparaging her looks and talking about his boss and himself. Normally this would have been hilarious, but her attention was on Mari and the officer standing far enough away that she couldn’t hear their conversation.

“Would you kindly guard my credit purse here while I step away for a second?”She asked already rising from her seat.

“Of course, but…” She lost his voice amids the clatter of fountains, dining implements and voices. As she moved towards her sister.

She considered the imperial officer enchanting her sister. He was tall and athletically built. His face in profile seemed like it had been taken from one of the fashion billboards that ran between the shops, but his expression seemed full of openness and intelligence. A little cocksure, but that probably couldn’t be helped given what nature had gifted him with. When she saw his whole face she noticed that the other side had a red scar down his jaw that gave him a rougeish appearance. He could have been a character out of one of Mari’s silly novels.

“My sister knows more than I do.” Mari was waving her over and including her in the conversation.

“More about what?”

“A certain Ambassador we both know and love to hate” Mari snickered.

“That’s certainly a dramatic explanation of our relationship, and I don’t claim to know him well lieutenant”-she quickly read his name badge- “Lurrise.” Criscidia came up next to her sister.

“What’s this all about?” At first she had been concerned that Mari was embarrassing herself flirting with the officier, but now it appeared she was engaging in her second favorite pastime-- Gossip. Now Criscida knew perfectly well that Ambassador Davryl disliked her as much as she disliked him. However that sort of instantaneous dislike of a person is no reason to rat him out to Imperial Intelligence, and she immediately put herself on guard to dimure on the subject.

Noting Criscidia’s pointed look Lieutenant Lurrise blushed and quickly added “Oh I’m not here on official business, I’m not intelligence. I work in procurement and logistics. I’m on leave come to visit my homeworld.” He may have well read her mind as to set her at ease so easily reduced her initial suspicion. 

“Welcome home Lieutenant.” Criscidia blushed at her own quick judgement. “What part of Commenor is home?”

“Originally from the North, but before I left for the military, I had come to call Vauxhall my home.”

“Do you have family there still?”

“No, no I don’t have any family left at all. That’s why I was asking about the Ambassador. We grew up together. I had heard that after his father died he had taken up the post. My father managed Davryl lands while the old ambassador was away, and when he was home he took a liking of me and included me with Marcus in almost everything. While we were young we were close but we grew apart, you know how it goes. I don’t suppose Marcus is making a fantastic impression in these parts though is he?”

Mari snorted “Ha! not at all! Almost the first thing he did when he came to a party thrown in his friend’s honor was not talk to anyone and then loudly insult poor Crissy here!”

“Thank you for that Mari.” Criscidia decided it was time to take back control over this conversation. “Everyones’ vanity can take a hit every now and again, and I wasn’t especially hurt by an insult from someone I didn’t know and had started to dislike. Do you know Charlie Bessin?” She figured she could get some information out of this Lurris in exchange for the information Mari would have given up for free.

“By reputation only. He seems like the genuine type, kind to everyone, loves Commenor, loyal to the empire. I can’t figure out how he can stand to be around Marcus. I imagine the friendship won’t be of a long duration, they never are.” He rolled his eyes playfully as if to say joking about this clearly sensitive subject was the best way to deal with it.

“The ambassador hasn’t made any new friends in his time here, and doesn’t seem to care to. How did he end up with the misfortune to lose yours?”

“Crissy! What a thing to ask! You are always so blunt!” Who would have guessed it, Criscidia seemed to be embarrassing Mari. She took a moment to relish the feeling.

“Oh it’s not a secret. I was supposed to take up my father’s job just as Marcus would take over from his own father. But after the old man died, Marcus refused to give me the job. So I had to move to Vauxhall and shift for myself. It was a couple of very hard years, let me tell you. Commenor isn’t especially kind to relationless young men. There are just so few ways to prove yourself here that eventually I took off for the stars. Homesickness momentarily got to me, and I am so glad it did because it means I got to meet you lovely ladies.”

By this time Billson had come up beside Criscidia proprietarily. He puffed up his chest and stood with his feet shoulder width apart. It was obvious he was trying to be noticed as a comrade in arms in his tactical battle dress uniform pants and matching jacket in Rosings industries blue. Lurris raised an eyebrow to Criscidia to ask if this guy was serious.

“Billson Reed let me introduce you to a new acquaintance Mari and I were forming, Lt. Lurris. Billson brought his legs together and exaggeratedly clasped his hands behind his back ‘at ease’.

“Thank you for your service Lt. Lurris, It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am only here to let my two beautiful companions know that it is time to return home if we intend to eat with the family.” His deference seemed to make Lurris a little uncomfortable. It was either that or he was trying to hold back a chuckle at the ridiculous man with such a strange mix of conceit and humility.

“I understand there is going to be a big to do at the Meyertissima Ballroom this weekend. Will you ladies be there?” The handsome lieutenant handed his card to Criscidia.

“That is our intent. Will we see you there?” Criscidia replied laying on the flirtation a little thick, hoping to send a message to Reed that she was not interested in him.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” He bowed turned on his heel and walked away.

“That was incredibly dangerous of you both to wander off like that. Crissy here is your bag, I expected better from you being the elder sister and reportedly so sensible. What would Dame Rawthborne think?” He continued in this vein until they reached the house.

\---

Pearl was feeling up to going back to the Ballroom with hopes of seeing Charlie again. Mari could barely contain herself looking forward to flirting with the handsome Lurris , but night after night the burning in Criscidia’s stomach continue to get worse. She was having trouble eating, first out of disgust with Billson’s table manners, then at her mother’s blatant attempts to throw the pair of them alone together, and then out of fear of eating itself. It seemed when ever she did eat the burning in her chest only got worse. By the time the day of the party arrived she was so sick it was clear she wouldn’t be able to attend.

Despite Billson’s cloying attentiveness, she had been able to convince everyone she was fine to be left at home and that with a good night’s rest she would recover. This may have been true, because every night that she had been home she had been researching and trying to piece together the financial puzzlel that was her future. 

On this night she ate some bland bread hoping it would settle the miserable fire of worry and opened up her father’s data pad again. She had been at it for less than an hour when the door to her father’s study swung open. A figure of a man was back-lit in the door. His wide brimmed hat and long coat taking up the whole entry way.

It all happened so fast. There was a spreadsheet, then there was a man in the door and then there was a blaster barrel pointed at her.

It was hard to say who was more startled the man or Criscidia. It was clear he had been expecting her father, and now didn’t know what to do with a very young woman at the end of his blaster point. Startled as she was she noticed his face and was able to focus on that instead of the deadly weapon trained on her. He was jumpy, but he didn’t want to kill her.

“So it's clear you are not looking for trouble with me sir.” Some process in her brain watching the scene from somewhere outside herself was exceedingly proud with how calm she sounded. She watched herself stand up and offer the traditional Commenorian formal greeting curtsy. 

The man lowered the blaster, his face moving to confusion. 

“Please sir have a seat. I’m sure we can address your concerns while seated. Can I get you a drink?” She turned confidently toward the liquor stand her father kept. Her hands were less calm then her voice. They shook dreadfully as she poured, spilling more than made it into the glass. With a calming breath she ordered her hand steady and she presented the amber liquid to her visitor.

Taking as seat opposite him she decided to press her advantage and control the conversation. “Now, my name is Criscidia Fonteneau, you are currently sitting in my Father, Thomas Fonteneau’s study.” At this his eyes flicked in recognition.

“So you are here for my father then.”

The man seemed to come back to himself and holstered the blaster, and adopted a sterner expression.

“Now see here little lady, I don’t like doing wrong by a youngn’ such as yourself, but your father owes a great deal to the Shadow, and the Shadow is out of patience. As it is I know a thing or two about being indebted to the Shadow and your daddy is in deep. If you can get me the 60,000 credits the whole thing goes away. See.”

It was supposed to be obvious to Criscidia that coming up with enough credits to buy a small interstellar ship would be an easy enough thing to do. She had once had such a thought but her nightly crash course in accounting and estate management made his request laughable. He did still have a blaster on his hip so she chose not to laugh. She chose to stall.

“Something tells me you would not have come to Commenor just to settle a debt for the Shadow? So what else about this planet interests you?” She was guessing some what wildly.

“Look your daddy and I have more in common then I’d like to admit. I owe quite the little pile of credits myself. I figure I can pick up the money from your dad and flinch an item of interest that will fetch a big price and I can make a little headway on my own debt. See it’s nothing personal.”

“What else are you looking for?”

“Why in the sam hell would I tell you that?”

“I happen to be very well connected. I may know how to get it for you.” She had stood up and walked to the window and was examining the latch to see how quickly she could open it and if the second story fall would kill her when she jumped. Only a very small part of her brain was at work in weaving this little fib about her usefulness.

“Jedi Battle Armor”

“What was that?” He had her whole attention now.

“Jedi Battle Armor”

“And do you know where such an impressive piece of history is located? It really should be in a museum.”

“I have it located to this hemisphere.”

“Good luck for you that you happened to run across me then, Because I know exactly where it is, and I have the means to get it for you, with very little inconvenience for either of us.”

“Are you doshing me? Little girl, if you are playing a game, I’m not impressed.”

“I am completely serious. But there is a catch.”

If she did what she was considering doing she was going to have to leave Commenor. Possibly forever, but her brain was running a lightyear a minute and she couldn’t stop her mouth even if she had wanted to.

“I want a cut, and I want you to take me with you. I’ll assume my father’s debt, and I’ll work it off along side you.”

He looked at her with a horrified expression. Admittedly her perfectly curled, tightly knotted and braided hair and gauzy dress didn’t cut a figure fit for crime, so he was allowed some incredulity.

“Look, My family needs my father. Alive.” Thoughts of Billson Reed kicking them out of the house, or worse, marrying her so they could keep the place flashed through her mind. This had to work. “He is also a risky investment. The shadow was foolish to lend to him, any person who can read an accounting table can see he is an unacceptable risk. But I’m not. You need someone who can run risk analysis on jobs, you also look like you could use someone to organize and run the administrative side of your ship. I am arrogant enough to be willing to speak to anyone, so if there comes a time when you need to preserve your anonymity you can use me to speak through. I’m no one, I barely have a digital trace for anyone to follow. Plus I know the exact location and security systems around the battle armour. Its locked down so tight, you won’t get it out without someone on the inside.”

It was working. Or she hoped it was working. She watched as warring expressions changed his face. He wanted that armor bad, and he needed help, but it was clear that he did not want to involve her in any of this.

“How big of a cut do you want?”

“30 percent of the fenced value of the battle armor, and a 10 percent cut of everything after that till father’s debt is repaid. After that a ticket home.” She had done some research on Henry Stavos’ notorious armor and knew that he had bought it for just under 100,000 credits, foolish man. If they could make back what Henry had spent, she’d be halfway to paying off the debt, if interest wasn’t accruing. This is a problem with underworld loans, they don’t come with data stacks full of amortization schedules.

“Do we have a deal? Mr.---” Oh dammit, she didn’t even know his name, and she was prepared to ruin her whole life through him. This unknown fate was infinitely preferable to a lifetime tied to Billson right?

“The name is Tyrone Iso, and dammit I do not want to make this deal with you, ya hear, but I’m a little desperate see, so I guess you have a deal.” He extended one calloused hand and she took it.

\---

The night of that fateful bargain it was raining. The kind of rain that comes just before winter, not yet snow but just as bitingly cold. Criscidia and Tyrone stood out on a hill just above the Stavos manor house using binoculars to get an idea about how many servants were still away-maybe 2 and which door would be the easiest to sneak into. The front door would be the exit because the battle armor was in the front hall. Criscidia would be going alone claiming that there were security systems only she knew how to bypass.

“Oh Heck, you’re telln’ me this damn armor is at your freaking neighbors house? And that you are prepared to steal from your best friend’s family? Are you always this stone cold?”

“I’m confident it will be a sore subject for some time I feel terrible about this. And once I return home I will embark on a repayment plan to offset any losses the family experienced. But it’s this or someone-- more bloodthirsty than you turned out to be-- comes and kills my father, and I get married off to a man who makes my skin crawl. So if I have to pay my father’s debt one way or the other I’ll deal with the consequences accrued via this plan. Thank you for asking.”

“This planet is messed up.”

“What? are other worlds not this classest, racist, and sexist?”

“Otherworlds each have their own issues, but usually places this rich and close to the core are...a little more easy going about stuff like inheritance and women getting to make their own way.” 

“I look forward to seeing it.” This was a lie. Every tree and hill and fence stile was breaking her heart. She was leaving this place forever. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“It’s time. Here is my com signal.” He entered the code into his com and she put her earpiece in and started for the kitchen door of the Stavos mansion.

Soaked through she followed the servants passage from the kitchen to the front hall. The security system she had pressured Tyrone into accepting as imposing, if down right impossible to crack, was in reality about as well guarded as her own father’s data pad. 

About twenty paces in front of her the armor stood on a mannequin in a glass case. The case had come with the armor so it did have an electronic keypad that locked and unlocked the front door of the case. She crept up to it, still dripping.

She entered his birthday, but the light that surrounded the keypad flashed red. Then Gladyis’ birthday, again a red flash. She tried Glydis’ birthday backwards and it flashed green the glass case housing the armor sprung open and the lights inside it glowed a bright white. “Oh Henry” she muttered sympathetically under her breath.

“Crissy?” Gladys’s sleepy voice shocked her. Literally caught like a thief red handed she stared at her friend. Her heart not beating, sweat forming on her brow she couldn’t even bolt for the door.

“Crissy? Is it really this bad?” Criscidia broke. It had been weeks since she had discovered her father’s folly, and she had not shared her grief with anyone. She couldn’t tell Pearl, to do so would risk the budding romance between her and Charlie. She couldn’t talk to her father so she had lost another confidant along with her hero; and she had not seen fit to share any of this with Gladys.

Her knees buckled, and she just started crying. Gladys was next to her in a heartbeat. 

“Do you know how much this stupid relic cost?” Gladys finally said holding her close. “Everything. My respect for my father, and any hope of marriage to a man who wasn’t already financially well off, let alone someone like Charlie Bessin who needs the dowery just to keep up appearances. When your father got the horse, I knew.”

“He took out a loan he can never repay from a crime boss, Gladys. I am so angry at him, but they will kill him. So I took on his debt, and made a deal with a smuggler named Tyrone and he wanted this...and... oh god Gladys I’m sorry I panicked. I blamed my father, I blamed your father. I had no idea that both of those old men were playing a game and using us both as table stakes. What am I going to do?”

Gladys looked thoughtfully at the armor.

“Billson Reed. I’ve met him but tell me is he a cruel man?”

“Billson?” She shook her head confused “No, a sycophant. Not particularly bright. He says thoughtless things all the time, but he seems to genuinely repent of them if you explain how it was insensitive. Why?”

“The Armor for Billson. I give you the Armor tonight and you ensure Billson makes me an offer of marriage.”

Criscidia could see what Gladys was offering. It wasn’t just the armor for the obnoxious man, it was the armor for the role of mistress of her ancestral lands. Inherited from father to son for generations. It would leave the family, but both women had a chance to be free.

“You want to finish the hands our fathers couldn’t stop playing.”

“Yes.”

“My mother won’t starve when you are the new lady of the house?”

“Not on my watch. No.”

“There isn’t anybody as lucky as I am in the friendship I have with you. Yes I accept. And I love you.” They were hugging and crying together on the entryway floor.

“Are you sure you can stand to live with him?” Criscidia asked as the hiccups subsided.

“I’ve never been the romantic that you are. Yes I absolutely can, and I think that in the end I will have more freedom then if I really cared for him.”

“Tyrone wondered about me being stone cold. I think he had just never dealt with a commenorian woman before.” Criscida laughed shakily.

\---

The march up the hill back to Tyrone left her out of breath. She was not going to be able to be this physical without a pair of pants and some good work boots. The dresses and sedate luxury would have to go too. She was giving up so much. Misery was threatening to over take her again.

“Well now, that took longer than I had expected. Sounds like your friend there did us a solid.” She had forgotten her communicator was on through their whole conversation. Tyrone didn’t look angry at her for her honesty with Gladys.

“I didn’t catch how you were going to cover your tracks though.”

A huge shockwave rattled the windows of the house below.

“Gladys found a stun-grenade in the office of our neighborhood law enforcement official. In her single act of rebellion as a teenager she took it. I guess she has been wanting to see if it worked for a while. Now it will look like some sort of professional job. Maybe.”

“So should we get out of here and head to the space port at Vauxhall. Its a two hour drive from here.”

“Tyrone, I need to finish a couple of things here. So no one comes looking for me. Give me the keys to your ship and I’ll give you the armor. We can meet up again around midday tomorrow. Does that work?

“Sure kid, I don’t blame you for having trust issues. See you tomorrow. Docking bay 14.”

“Hey Cid? Go easy on your old man. He screwed up, but it’s pretty clear you loved each other. Don’t make it impossible to reconcile later. Regrets suck.”

She nodded back to him.

\---

She slept when she got home. Woke up the same way she had always woken up. She laid there a minute appreciating the bird song, her bed, the sound of Os’kara singing in the dining room setting out breakfast. She took a long hot shower and packed all her favorite toiletries, a hair ribbon she had worn at her coming out party, the necklace her father had given her when she was 15. She dug through her closet and reasoned that nearly every dress would be inappropriate for her new line of work. She couldn’t resist taking the beautiful ruby satin one she had hoped to wear to the party the night before. Maybe she’d find some excuse to wear it.

She took the bottle of perfume her mother had given her when she was 12; it was the same sent Fanny still wore, and grabbed the shawl that each of her sisters had a match to. Something to bind her to this place even when she was far far away. With one last look around the room she stuffed her data pad and a charging cable into her one bag and headed down the stairs to her father’s study.

Thomas’ white head was bent over some book, and he looked up when he heard her. He saw the bag and commented “So you are feeling well enough to run away and join the circus, glad to hear it.”

Criscidia sat down. “Last night a bounty hunter showed up in our house while the rest of you were gone. He demanded the 60,000 credits you owe the shadow.”

Every hint of amusement drained out of his face and his skin took on a green hue.

“I know about all of it Dad. I know the dowries are gone, I know that the shadow wanted you dead, I know that you really didn’t mean for any of us to get hurt. So I did a thing. I assumed your debt and have offered my bookkeeping skills to a bounty hunger and smuggler by the name of Tyrone Iso. I think I should have all this paid off by the end of next year. At which point I want to come home and pretend that none of this ever happened. So we are going to go into breakfast together and we are going to announce that a prestigious university enrollment slot has opened up for me and that I am leaving to go pursue it. Today. And then after I leave you will use every ounce of influence you have over Billson and encourage him to marry Gladys Stavos. This ‘friendly’ rivalry between you and Henry has cost you both more than you can possibly imagine. In the end Gladys gets this estate. Do we have an understanding?”

Thomas swallowed. She could see that he was on the verge of objecting of asserting his patriarchal rights. But they both knew he had forfeited those rights when he took out that loan. Instead he wept quietly.

“I’m sorry my dearest girl, I’m so sorry.” He said over and over. Criscidia was deeply moved by this. For a brief moment with the sun now up shining through the windows and in the face of her father’s sincere regret she almost decided to call the whole plan off. But Thomas had never asked her to change her mind, and she knew that this was the only hope for her family now. She hugged him close. The hug of a little girl and her daddy one last time.

\---

Tyrone was waiting for her on a crate outside a ship. He nodded approvingly at her new appearance when she walked in. With the cash her father had given her she had stopped in the capital for less conspicuous clothes. She had opted for thick snug off white trousers and a matching high necked tunic with a deep blue cloke. Knee high all weather boots seemed sturdy enough for now. She had cut her hair and had tied the rest of it back with a basic tie.

Tyrone was holding out his hand for the keys which she tossed to him. The gang plank released and he pulled while she pushed the crate up the ramp.

“So where are we headed from here?” she asked when his tour of the ship was complete and they finished in the cockpit.

“Well, I have a source on Tanala that says some higher up in the royal family collects Jedi relics, so I think we may have a taker for our haul. Then after that the Shadow has a couple of jobs for us to choose from. I updated him on our arrangement and he seems fine with it.” 

“Who is this Shadow person? Seems awfully dramatic to name your self _ the shadow _.”

“Kid you're not wrong. And I can’t answer your question. I’ve never met him, and honestly if I ever do the first thing I’ll do is shoot him in the head.”

  
  
  



	2. Far from home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Criscidia adopts a nickname, and learns how to be a criminal.

“Hey Cid, Pass me that wrench” Tyrone called out from inside the wall of the  _ Miranda _ . By the second month on board she had learned every tool used in the seemingly daily repairs needed on Tyrone’s old freighter.

She passed it to him and went back to reading the ship manual about how to forward incoming messages from the main terminal in the cockpit to the rear terminal in the main cabin that served as a galley and common area. Tyrone had been traveling by himself for a long time. It was an adjustment. She thought maybe if she could do her work in a different space he’d feel less cramped.

“Ok now that refurb compressor.” She handed it to him.

She had taken to ship life better than she had expected. Living with a cantankerous middle-aged corellian smuggler had been the bigger adjustment. Running away with a man had always carried a different nuance when she read about it than the life that she was living. It was rather more like she had exchanged fathers, or gone to live with an eccentric uncle, and relatively quickly she had developed a proper filial affection for him. 

Tyrone seemed to be uncomfortable with her presence one minute and then incredibly protective the next. He had given her the larger of the two quarters claiming he didn’t want to move his stuff, but on the first two worlds they stopped at he had not allowed her to leave the docking bay. They had only been refueling on Corellia, but they had stayed over night on the next world and she had wanted to go out and explore. He said she wouldn’t be welcome where he had to go. Several hours later he had 3 large crates that needed to be loaded into the closet. The one that you could only get to from behind the main engine room.

When she had asked, he just gave her a data card and told her to keep a secure log of this cargo separate from the public bill of lading they had to present when landing at any spaceport.

She was a tad embarassed by how long it had taken her to figure out that they were smuggling. In this case it was quite a lot of spice - an addictive narcotic that some said made them telepathic. Her mother could never know. It would kill her. The fit that Fanny would start would begin by claiming she had no idea what spice even was, and then it would devolve from there into claiming that she knew all about the sorts of people who would use such a thing. Poor desperate souls she would say. What Criscida would soon learn, was that the end consumer may be desperate souls, but they were far from poor.

So began her education in another sort of ‘double entry bookkeeping’. Her other jobs on the ship seemed to be cleaningl and communications. Years of living alone had made Tyrone immune to the chaos of his environment and filing system. He never asked her to do it, she just couldn’t tolerate the disorder. 

She felt the ship come out of light speed. She was impressed at how engrossing a manual can be when she actually needed to fix something, she had used up their 6 hours of travel time without being bored.

“Okay Kid, this will be just like Coreilia you stay on the ship. I make the drop, pick up the cash, pay for the fueling and we’re gone.” Expenses for a self-styled “independent shipping agent” were high. The price of fuel and docking was outrageous, so it was only worth it to deal in high priced cargo. Tyrone landed the freighter in the docking bay and sauntered back to the “hard to reach” closet checking his watch. He emerged with a single briefcase as proof of delivery. Cid could tell that this wouldn’t be a complicated or even particularly dangerous exchange because he had never reholsterd his blaster, it lay where he left it next to the tool box where he had been working.

She was tempted to ask to go with him, to watch and learn how the thing was done, but she knew what his answer would be. So she took herself to the gally to wait for him to ask for help unloading the rest of the hidden crates. 

Absently twirling on her stool she pulled up the vid feed from below the ship. Tyrone hadn’t shown her how to do any of this, she was proud of herself. If she was going to make herself worth the ten percent cut she had demanded she was honor bound to find a way to be useful. She switched screens to begin downloading any messages that had been waiting in a queue while they were in hyperspace, then back to the vid feed.

Tyrone was waiting on a crate outside the ship for his contact. And they were taking their sweet time about it. Drug dealers, she thought, you’d think that being on time would be important to their job security. She flipped back to the messages. Her heart leaped for joy when she had one from both her sisters and her father. Fanny was a terrible correspondent. She flipped back to the vidfeed. 

Two lizardmen Cid recognized from encyclopedias as Trandoshans had started a conversation with Tyrone. Something was off in his posture though. He opened the case and looked to be demanding the payment. Cid wished the camera had an audio connection. 

One of the trandoshans drew a blaster on Tyrone. He was gesticulating wildly, trying to talk his way out. Cid’s heart began to beat a crazy rhythm and all her muscles clenched. These were clearly not the contact Tyrone had been expecting or he would have gone in armed. 

The first trandoshan left the view of the vid and the other shot Tyrone. He flew backwards and landed limply on his side at the edge of the cargo container. Cid had wanted to scream, but managed to swallow it. The trandoshans were on board now. She sprinted across the hall to the tool box and grabbed Tyrone’s blaster held it shakily to her chest and tried to decide on the best place to hide.

Up; People almost never looked up. She stepped on to the stool she had recently used, punched out a ceiling panel and pulled herself up and into the crawlspace that ran the length of the ship. 

Every few meters there was a vented panel that allowed her to see into the ship below. The Trandoshans were opening every crate that was strapped to the walls of the main walkway that ran between the cockpit and the back of the ship. She could see them, but had no idea what to do about it. She was sure that her breathing was so loud the predators would be able to hear her above the ambient din of the ventilation system.

They opened their mouths and a strange hissing and clicking sound emerged. They were arguing which direction to head. When they turned toward the back of the ship Cid quietly pulled herself by the arms through the narrow passage. They must be looking for the rest of the spice. If Tyrone was dead, the money that the spice would bring in was her only ticket home. She couldn’t let them have it.

They made the turn into the engine compartment and began pounding on the hull walls. She could feel the vibrations from the blows reverberate through her hands and knees, which were beginning to ache from her efforts. Maybe she could get into the hidden closet and surprise them when they opened the door. Looking ahead at how far she would have to scoot she saw to her dismay that the crawl space abruptly ended. The panels that connected it from the section she was on had been removed at one point and never put back. Part of her mind made a note to add it to the list of repairs she was keeping.

She had to protect that cargo. The trandoshans were now walking toward the closet as they had surely noticed it. They had to travel single file to inch around the engine core. It was now or never.

Cid clamped the blaster between her teeth grabbed the edge of the last panel and swung through boots first. She hit the first trandoshan hard and he fell back into his partner. In turn the partner fell back and cracked his head against the corner they were working themselves around.

Her boots landed squarely with a loud thud; she surprised herself by not falling flat on her back. She had the blaster in her hand now, brandishing it wildly. She had never fired one before. 

The first trandoshan could tell. He rushed her and grabbed the blaster. When she didn’t let go he whipped her around to face away from him. Her hand was still on the trigger but she couldn’t make herself shoot. Now the trandoshan had the length of the blaster against her throat. Most of her strength had to go to pushing the cold metal away from her as she uncoordinatedly struggled against her captor. 

Her boots found purchase on the rail that ran along the engine. She threw her whole weight backward with the force of her kick. She seemed to have winded the trandoshan because he loosened his grip slightly. That small success seemed to focus her. She made herself go limp so she slipped down slightly in his arms and then thrust her whole self head first into the trandoshans chin. He let go and she whipped around and fired the blaster.  Tyrone wasn’t blood thristy and had the weapon always set on stun. A blue electric wave seemed to crawl over her attacker and he stiffened and flew backward. She swung the blaster to hit the second trandoshan, but he had never gotten up from his first fall. A bloody gash on the back of his head made Cid shutter. There wasn’t time to deal with them, but they weren’t going anywhere for a while. She jumped over them and ran to the landing ramp, desperate to get to Tyrone.

Cid found him still draped awkwardly on the crate. She sprinted toward him grabbing underneath his shoulders and dragging him out flat so she could check him over for blaster burns. His chest was rising and falling normally but he was otherwise completely limp. She rolled him on his side to check his back; he must have been stunned because she could not find any.

“Where the hell is the security in this place!” She yelled out. Surely someone had noticed by this point that there was blaster fire in a public space port. The Bay doors opened suddenly.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any security coming.” Came the low smooth voice of a woman, or at least Cid thought the voice was a human woman.

The woman was at least seven feet tall and wore a bodysuit so tight that she may as well have chosen to wear nothing at all. Her hair was jet black and severely pulled back and her eyes were painted with a black band that traveled the width of her entire face. She was flanked by two human looking guards both with blast shielding masks that hid their faces.

Cid scrambled up to put herself between the intimidating woman and Tyrone’s body and pointed the blaster at the woman. Her hand was shaking so badly even if she could fire there was little chance of her actually hitting any of the party advancing on her.

The woman’s eyes narrowed at her and then at the ground where Tyrone lay. 

“Is he alive?” She said with an authoritative tone, although something made Cid believe she had heard concern as well.

Cid squared her shoulders and tried to mimic the subtle eye contraction and unflappable facial expression in the other woman.

“Who is asking?” 

“I don’t know who you are but there is no way you were the one who intercepted my scheduled meeting with Tyrone Iso, so I will ask again: Is he alive?” Her voice became steely but never lost the smooth resonance. Without visible signal the two guards on either side of her drew blaster carbines and sited in on Cid.

“Yes he is alive, he was ambushed while waiting for you. So I ask  _ you _ again: who are you? Cid hadn’t mastered it yet, but someday she would be able to command a room like this woman before her. If she lived so long.

The impossibly tall woman raised one impossibly long finger and the blasters trained on Cid lowered. She turned her head from one side to another examining Cid from head to toe and then the left side of her lips lifted slowly. A positive appraisal, Cid hoped.

“My name is Luurrah Artois, and yes I was scheduled to meet with Tyrone at o-three hundred. We were held up at security on extremely thin pretense. I pay handsomely to be able to freely load and unload cargo, so I knew something must be wrong in here. Who attacked my friend here, and where did they take my shipment?”

“Two trandoshans, and they didn’t get the shipment.” Cid narrowed her eyes. 

“Damn! Trenten, you slimy bastard.” It seemed Lurrah knew who was responsible for the attack. “Wait, what did you say? They didn’t get the shipment? Well then where is it?” Her voice contained only mild incredulity.

“Where is the payment?” Cid stated. The blaster in her hand was getting heavy, but she held it up anyway. Only an idiot showed the buyer where the stash was before getting paid. And she was determined to not look like an idiot.

Luurah shoulders shook a little now. Another long finger beckoned a guard who produced a pack, opening the top to reveal bars of latinum.

Cid’s eyes grew wide.

“satisfied? or would you like to count it?” Luurah chuckled.

Cid did want to count it, but nodded no.

“Now where did the Trenten’s men run off to?”

“Run off? They are on the ship.” A moment of alarm crossed Cid’s face “I think one of them needs medical attention. I stunned the other, but one of them...I don’t think he his dead...I don’t think I killed him...I.” She dropped the blaster as if it was super heated.

Luurah flicked one finger in the direction of the ship and the guards both turned and trudged inside.

“How much trouble did I get us into? I really had only meant to--” She stopped. She did not know what she had meant to do, but she had not signed up to work off her father’s debt to hurt anybody, even if that creature had hurt her friend and probably would have hurt her too.

Luurah had gotten up while she was rambling and pushed a grav sled over to Tyrone’s prone figure. Cid quickly helped to pull him on and then feeling like he looked exposed and cold took her over coat off and tucked it around him. 

“He will be ok right?” Cid asked Luurah knowing full well that she was sacrificing her image of composure.

“Yes, I believe so, not that he will like it mind you. Now, I know that you are traveling with Tyrone, and that you are quick thinking enough to defend yourself and the ship from thugs--” She gestured to her men dragging the two trandoshans out of the ship “--But what I don’t know is who you are, and how you came to work with this recluse.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Cid said donning Commenorian formality like a protective cloak. “My name is Criscidia Fontenau of Longforth house on Commenor.” They proceeded into the ship and to the medical alcove in the common area.

“A Commenorian teenager?! Good heavens, what possessed you to leave the planet with the likes of him?” This was the first time her voice had shown great variation in pitch.

“You’ll forgive me, but I cannot see how Mr. Iso’s position as courier of illicit substances is terribly different in essentials from yours as buyer.” Something in Cid had bristled at the pejorative use of the word teenager, and was feeling more than a little defensive of Tyrone, and herself, and the choices that had lead her up to this moment. They rounded the corner to the small medical alcove in the main common area of the ship.

“Listen, ‘Miss Fonteneau’, if you are indeed from Commonor your formality is a dead giveaway for the gentry, so I assume that you were raised to be a woman of means. And yet you are here on this old freighter hauling spice between worlds. You either have an uncommonly interesting story to tell, or you are very foolish. The outcome of your little adventure today makes me doubt the latter unless you are also uncommonly lucky. But you may keep your secrets if it gives you comfort.”

Cid nodded and relaxed a little.

“Have you ever used one of these?” Luurah held out an injector packet that was stashed in a wall cabinet.

“No”

“Become familiar. Its called a stim pack and it can save your life. A drug cocktail that can get you up and moving if you are otherwise too injured to do so. It will also revive a stunned person by chemically stimulating the brain. Its a rather rude awakening.” She said this as she jamed the injector into the side of Tyrone’s leg.

Tyrone jerked and gasped for air.

“Damn...it” Tyrone moaned, coming around.

Luurah checked her chronometer. “The guard I have bribed gets off shift in 10 minutes. I should be going. He” gesturing to Tyrone “will probably have a terrible headache for the rest of the day. So getting yourselves off planet will be on you.”

“I’m right here.” Tyrone tried to sit up galled at his implied incapacity.

“So you are. You idiot! What do you think you are doing taking a young woman on as crew and not training her properly?”

“I’m right here!” Cid cried and was ignored

“I daresay after Trenten’s rather blunt attempt on MY cargo, your current headache certainly counts as the ‘best case scenario’. In any case, she was quick thinking enough to down both of them, but it’s damn irresponsible to not have her familiar with a weapon and carrying one, not that you were even clever enough to take such precautions for yourself.” She gestured at his empty holster disdainfully, before her face softened a touch. “Get yourself together, Ty; I know it’s been a while since you’ve had anyone else to look after.”

Tyrones face darkened briefly and he looked poised to snarl before he seemed to give in to the returning exhaustion as the chemicals is his system wound down from their initial spike.

”It’s not just for her sake either, you know. It’s always seemed to me a risky business to operate on your own, and if you want my opinion she is wasted working your back office.” Luurah narrowed her eyes at Tyrone.

“I’ll remember that when I want your opinion.” Tyrone mumbled throwing his hand over his eyes and collapsing back on the medical couch. Luurah stood to leave, she had to duck going through the doorways.

“Those trandoshans, you are going to take care of them? I’m positive the one with the gash should see a doctor.” Cid was following her out.

Luurah cocked her head and her brow wrinkled as if trying to peer inside Cid’s mind. “Yes Criscidia, they will be properly deposited in the country where they can get all the rest and relaxation they require for a full recovery.” For a brief moment Cid was relieved, and then she had a sneaking suspicion Luurah was being sarcastic. 

By the time she had thought it through Luurah, her guards and the trandoshan bodies were gone. Almost as if they had never been there. Cid shook herself back into action. She commed into the ground crew employed by the space port ordering a refueling team and three weeks of living supplies to be delivered. At one point Tyrone shuffled around to find her. 

“Ya gotta unhook the cuplink before you can get access to the refueling port.” 

Cid only looked up at him and nodded toward the refueling port to show she had already done it. Tyrone nodded, apparently at loose ends, and shuffled back to his cabin. He did not interrupt her again.

Cid moved on to finish the repair Tyrone had been working on, replaced the wall panel, cleaned up the pilfered crates and re-installed the missing ceiling panels.

There was still a sick pool of blood in the engine room. She cleaned that up, trying not to think too hard about what had occurred there. Did those thugs owe money to that Trenten person? Would she end up being cleaned off the floor at some point? 

The ground crew gave her the all clear from refueling and she had the docking clamps removed and pulled up the gangplank. Seating herself in the pilot's chair she cleared the preflight checklist and powered up the engines. She had never flown the freighter alone before. She had never faced two mercenaries before either, so on balance this felt relaxing. She lifted off, mostly smoothly and exited the atmosphere. 

“You remember to secure that wall panel back on?” Tyrone had come up behind her.

“Yeah. Where are we headed?” Cid asked without looking back at him.

“My contact on Tanala is ready for us.” He sat down in the copilots chair wearily and entered in the coordinates. Cid moved to get up and give him his seat back but he waved her back down. “You got this.”

She pulled the lever to accelerate them to hyperspace and the view screen streaked white.

“Hey Cid” Tyrone paused uncomfortably. “Luurah was right. I thought sheltering you was more likely to keep you safe, but I was wrong. Ya did good today, and I owe you a big one. I’m cutting that latinum with you 50/50; you earned it. You’re gunna need a blaster, and I’ll show you how to use it. Why don’t you hit your quarters, I’ll watch things up here.”

She nodded and left him.

When she got back to her quarters she sat down on a crate against the back wall. She pulled her knees to her chest. She cried in earnest. She cried for the fear that she had walled off during the attack, and the thankfulness that Tyrone would be okay, but mostly she cried because of what she had done. Could a woman who was capable of killing a person ever go back to Commenor and sit peacefully in drawing rooms discussing the weather? Could she ever marry and run an estate pretending like she had never been a criminal. 

She was in it now. Some part of her was actually very proud for protecting herself and Tyrone, prepping and loading the ship, for pulling a victory out of defeat. She cried for that part of herself most of all. 

That was when she fell into the closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is kind of homeless. Its not quite Pride and Prejudice (but the shell of the story is a flagrant rip off of the classic novel) and its not quite star wars because none of the characters you love will make an appearance...well thats not true I have some plans for drop-ins from time to time (I think that Davryl is one of the "nice men" Leia talks about in Empire....but thats still a long way off.) Anyway I am going to continue to post with these tags because I think the nice people in both fandoms will have the best feed back because you are so very knowledgeable about these universes. But fair warning Cid/Lizzy will be off adventuring quite a bit and only check in from time to time with the rest of the P and P cast.


End file.
